


Good Popes Obey

by suhdude



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band), Ghost B.C.
Genre: AKA, BDSM, Collars, Handcuffs, Hardcore, Kink, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Read at Your Own Risk, Smut, Surprises, but uh, canon is a matter of opinion, i dont wanna spoil this one so uh, if you cant grow your own weenie store bought is fine, is it a strapon or your own dick?, its all about rearanging guts and busting nuts pal, its just a little bit hardcore, not everyhting is tagged cause ya know, nothing bad happens, okay i may have weird standards of hardcore but i can assure you that it aint vanilla, papa is a sub, reader is a dom, uh ouf hm what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15030914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suhdude/pseuds/suhdude
Summary: I just wanted some sub papa you know? Big bad pope submitting?





	Good Popes Obey

“May I look at you, Highness?” his voice dripping from his mouth, sweet acidity clinging like the taste of an underripe strawberry.

You pretended to think for a moment, looking at the man before you. His knees were on the carpeted floor, his eyes matching them. Torso completely bare, black cotton socks and their garters on, collar around his throat detailed with rose inlays, a matching leather lead attached, leading to one of your hands, the other hand held a riding crop. The only thing adorning his pelvis, a steel cock ring encompassing his engorged shaft. The voice from his lips was far from the only thing dripping.  
“No.” You said curtly. He sighed, breath somewhat stable. Papa’s head began to move, crystalline mismatched eyes wandering with, to try and look up at you. A quick harsh yank of the sturdy leather lead and the man fell to his hands. You watched as he unsteadily stabilized himself. The edge of the crop gently slithered between his shoulder blades at your command. “What do we say when we disobey?” you spoke.

Papa shivered, the crops cool surface contrasting the heat of the atmosphere. “Sorry,” he breathed.

“Sorry?” you mimicked.

“Sorry, Highness.” His voice wasn’t as sour now, but still held to some dignity. 

“It seems the putrid pope still thinks he’s worth something.” Every syllable you spoke mocking him. You watched as he shifted, meaning to move back up on his knees. “Poor little   
Papa doesn’t want to obey.” Another strong tug of the leash and he fell back into place. His body lurched as his hands fell to stop him. He didn’t try to rise again, his head moved slightly, looking between his own legs. Papa must have been surprised by his own reaction, his breath hitched before his eyes met the carpet again. You gave the leash some slack as you moved away from him for a moment, admiring how pathetic he was. 

Funny how a mighty pope could fall so easily.

Papas ears perked up as you moved, tracing each footfall on the soft floor. It was hardly a stepping sound, the carpet muffling the creaking of the wood floor beneath. As you paced, you let the crop gently bounce along his spine, enough for him to know it was there, not enough to cause a true reaction. 

His head moved again, trying to see you, to get an idea of what you would do next. In reply, you let the crop bounce higher, causing a snapping noise on its downfall. He murmured, hardly suppressing his own reaction. The pink spot began to form just above his ass. 

“Good popes obey.” You said as you got closer to him, “Good popes don’t make noise unless they are told to,” crop bouncing slightly harder, hitting the curve of his ass with a louder snap. He winced slightly, letting out a small yelp. “You don’t understand, but you will.” Another flick of the wrist, the same as the one before, another snap, but this one greeted with a throaty groan in place of a full yelp. You nodded a slight approval, not that he could see. 

The crop slid back up his spine as you walked along his side, skin rippling under it with a chill. When you reached his head , you turned slightly, swiveling to sit on the padded top of the trunk that sat before him, letting your legs cross as you sat. His head adjusted again. 

“You,” you started, lifting one leg, uncrossing them, “have a lesson to learn,” the toe of your shoe met his shoulder, “and you will learn it.” Swinging forth your foot came down hard on him, knocking him from his hands down to his elbows before you. The rubber sole of your shoe kept him in place as he groaned. Standing again felt mightier, one foot on the ground, the other on the man before you. You let your ankle twist back and forth, as if squishing a bug, to drive the point home. Holding it on his shoulder a moment more, you sighed. “Don’t move back up,” came out as a sneer as you gently glid your foot back to solid ground. 

You turned to the trunk, the fasteners opening with a click and a metallic springing noise under your fingers. The scent of industry and freshly cleaned rubber radiated from the container as it opened. It didn’t take long to make up your mind, gently plucking what you wanted and placing them on top of the trunk as you closed its lid. You kept a ribbon in your hand as you turned back. 

“Greedy, greedy is what you are.” You bent down, setting the crop on his back, taking one side of the ribbon in each hand, letting the loop on the lead slip around your wrist. The satin of the ribbon was soft but thick, completely opaque. Papa started to move his head up to look but stopped when you shushed, dropping back. The ribbon was soon against his eyes, your hands tying it behind his head. You smiled before you spoke. “What a pretty bow for an ugly bitch.” The crop left his back as if found its place back in your hand. 

You fiddled with the things you had taken from the trunk a moment before turning back to him. 

Nothing more than the pressure of the crop was given to him. The tip of it sat motionless on his spine. The room echoed silence, emptiness ringing off the plain walls. 

“Highness?” Papa cautiously asked.

You held your tongue, lifting the crop from where it rested, leaving him free of any stimulation you would provide. He could feel the well-maintained carpet beneath his elbows and knees, the grip of the garters on his calves, and the now heated steel around his aching cock, but, he couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t hear any more from you than your breath and your footfalls, couldn’t feel you though his body begged to. 

“Highness.” His voice grew more demanding. “Highness, give me something, anything.” 

“Mind your manners.” You spoke, now behind his bent form.

“Highness, please, anything.” his voice came again, insistent.

“Fine.” 

Letting the shaft of the crop function as cane, you lined it up behind him, the wrapped leather ghosting over his skin, causing the skin of his ass to rise in goosebumps. The tool pulled away at your command before crashing against his skin, holding sure after the initial hit to ease some of the pain. Papa grunted none the less, the absence of anything replaced with a sting. 

“Now what do we say when our superior rewards us, slut?” 

“Thank you.” Papa breathed. 

“Pardon?” The cane crashing back down on him serving to emphasize your point, not bothering to raise your voice. 

“Thank you, Highness!” Papa exclaimed in surprise. Again, you pulled back the firm crop lined it up, and smacked the shaft down on his ass, the thwacking noise filling the room, mixing with the sound of Papa’s labored breathing. 

“Again.” You demanded, the same noise, louder as you hit him harder.

“Thank you, Highness!” Papa cried out, knuckles turning white as he held tight to the floor. 

“Once more!” 

“Thank you Highness!” his voice muffled as he face pressed to the plush carpet. Watching his chest heave, the final blow of the shaft echoed through the room, the shaft of the crop resting against his rippling skin to help calm it. Pre-cum slid down his belly in his hunched form like a twisted animal in heat. 

After a short rest, you slid the crop against him, letting it leave his skin bare once more. 

“You worship the goat, and yet, all you are is a pig.” You let the tip of the crop come down on his ass. Leather cracked as it wrapped. Papas nails dug as he recoiled at the blow. 

His teeth ground together.

“Thank you, Highness, thank you.” He spoke when air returned to his lungs. His cock was gushing with precum, painfully hard but unable to release even with the sensitivity peaking. 

You walked back around him, tugged at the lead, letting his collar move forward slightly. Papa moved from his elbows up to his hands, when the lead was pulled taught, he crawled slowly forwards, arms wobbling. 

Adding slack in the leash halted him to a stop. Swiveling the collar to point up, you tugged, the clasp that held the lead to the collar now at the back of his neck. Papa followed by lifting off his hands and going forward. You tugged again and he stopped. 

“Elbows down.”

Without even the inkling of a thought, he dropped, this time instead of carpet, he was met with the padded top of the play trunk. His head moved, though his eyes were still covered, he tried to figure out what was to come next. The snap of the cuffs around his wrists were the response. His wrists encased in the cool metal, he was still. 

One of your knees hit the top of the trunk, the other leg extended to keep on the ground. A buzz filled his ears as the vibrating contraption began to fill you. Arousal filled his nose and claimed the space it hadn’t already captured within him. He tried to move closer but couldn’t. No matter how he wiggled he couldn’t quite get within range to touch you. 

It would have consoled him a bit just to see, to watch you pleasure yourself, but he was on his knees, helpless before you. 

“Tsk, tsk, such a pathetic sight, wriggling like a worm left in the sun.” You let the words roll off your tongue as you played with the buzzing toy. “You really think you’ll get anything without me letting you have it?” The last words were accentuated by the moan you let escape. You pressed the toy deeper, the specially flared base keeping it in place. 

Papa’s face was mere inches from you, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

You set the crop down, handle resting on the side of the trunk. With the now free hand, you curled a digit under his collar. Using that and a thumb pressing to his chin, you tilted his blindfolded head up. 

“Answer me pig” you shot.

“No Highness.”

“Don’t move unless I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yes Highness.” Body still, his voice quivered slightly. 

Maneuvering slightly, you put your other knee up on the trunk. You stroked yourself gently, moans mixing with the heavy breaths leaving Papa. The air escaping him brushed gently against your thighs, stimulation adding to the already climbing tension in your gut. Papa groaned as he heard you. 

“That’s all it takes, isn’t it you slut? Just the sound of me, the smell of me. You don’t even need to feel my skin, to taste any bit of me, to see me above you. The thought alone gets you right to the edge doesn’t it?”

Papa moaned, hands flaring from fists to wide spread fingers, and back again before holding to the edge of the trunk. The padding beneath his arms clung slightly to the sweat of his skin. 

The hand that held the collar moved to grab his face. Thumb on one cheek, fingers on the other, you squished his face. 

“Answer me, you worthless old fuck!” 

“Yes Highness!” Papa replied, half yelling. 

“Fucking abhorrent. That’s what you are.” A sneer spread across your face as you held his in one hand. Adjusting your pelvis slightly so that your phallus stood pointing at him, you examined him. It was obvious how horny he was, even with his eyes hidden, the blush across his face and creeping onto his ears gave him away. Your fingers pressed hard against his face. “Open.” You commanded. 

Papas mouth popped open like that of a starving bird, wide, vulnerable. His tongue lolled out slightly. Guiding his head, you pressed his tongue against the base of your cock. It was immediate, his reaction. A curious flex of tongue and a sound from his nails dragging on the side of the chest he was bound to. 

“Please me” you spoke, he was all too eager to comply. His lips pursed, kissing as much as you would let him, even when your hand left his face, your control apparent by not only how he was bound, but by the pressure that would build and release around his neck as you pulled or dropped the slack in the lead. Papa took whatever he could into his mouth, what you kept slightly out of range, he extended his tongue to try and reach. His breath was ragged, his tongue was oddly smooth, both were hot and needy. He was desperate for more, so, you pulled back when he tried to get it, not allowing him anything he didn’t earn. Each time he went beyond his allowance, he was greeted by a tightening of his throat as the collar was pulled, lead wrapping around your hand as you pulled up. It was allowed to slack again once he calmed enough to apologize for his transgressions, each apology becoming more rushed as his cravings grew. 

Once, he didn’t fully apologize, so instead of stopping completely, when his lips wrapped around the head, your hand wrapped a round his skull, pulling it full down to the base of your cock. He floundered, fingers extending, surprised at the sudden fullness of his throat pulling out just as he began to gag. Coughing, his grip on the trunk returned. No other stimulation did. You stood back up. The handle of the crop found its way back into the palm of your hand, the leather cool from your absence. Your fingers danced along it for a moment before gripping it. 

Papa’s body was fully trembling. Hard to ignore, fun to watch as you did. His head moved forward slightly, face filling the space you had just occupied. The man dripping in his own arousal so caught up he hadn’t heard you move the remainder of what you pulled from the trunk, nor yourself. Suppressing a laugh, you lined the crop up with his exposed ass once again. 

The air in the room was heavy with lust, it could be felt to the core, the way a lightning strike leaves a taste of itself in the air. A cackle escaped you as Papa swore, voice cracking like the crop as it hit his already pink flesh. Ambushed by sensation, his hips bucked at the air. The crop left him. He sat on his knees, no sight, excitement messing with his other senses, back to waiting with nothing to cling to but the trunk and a hope for more. 

It was amusing, the way he moved to try to figure out where you were. A prick of the ear, a tilt of the head. Had he not become accustomed to the vibration of your toy enough for his mind to drown it out as white noise, it would have been easy to tell where you were. He bit his lip a few times, thinking. He would shift, pause, as though he was expecting a strike, then slump when it didn’t come. His hands moved, fingers dancing with thumbs as he grew nervous. A grumble came from his throat. Gently, you began to bounce the tip of the crop on the base of his neck, just above his shoulders. His skin rippled at the sensation, crawling in the best of ways. Shivers ran down his spine, visible in the way he moved. 

You let the tip of the crop bounce in time to the vibrations you had to please yourself, moving it from one side to the other as you walked. It wasn’t enough to leave marks, nor to sting, but was enough for the hair on his back to stand up with the new sensation. When the material made it down to his hip, you let the bonces become less often, taking time just to drag the tip along his oversensitive skin. You admired the growing marks forming on his ass as you worked a little longer, hardly letting the flesh be free of the crop now. 

Standing behind him was a sight. Nearly every inch of him was presented to you. His thighs were strong, but here they were, shuddering like the rest of his form. He was by no means a weak man, but he groveled at your command. Still, he had yet to fully submit. The buzz between your legs became more apparent as you let your mind wander. 

It seemed your mind wasn’t the only thing to wander. Looking again, you noticed the crop in your hand pointing down, the edge situated between his legs. You watched as his legs spread slightly at the lick of the leather. No snapping, no hitting, just the delicate touch against him. Curious, the way a soft touch was driving the proud pope to open for you. His spine curved and he hunched, groans now a common filler in the room. You slid the crop back up, guiding his legs to spread a bit more, just before leaving him yet again, this time trailed by a string of his own creation. A foot left the ground to push his back down. He yielded like near molten metal to your touch. Your heel dug in to his lower back to get his ass to stick out more as he arched. 

“You act like all high and mighty but you’re just a two-hole slut, aren’t you?” Papa’s back arched further at your words. Heel digging further into his back, he nodded. 

“Yes, Highness,” he panted.

“Then why don’t we get some use of the second hole, slut.” You slammed the crop against the trunk, Papa flinching as the breakneck speed caused a hiss next to his ear. His own lubricant that the crop had picked up splattered on his face from the force of the impact. The crop left you hand. You dropped to your knees behind him, feeling the carpet beneath you. One hand moved to his ass, the other swung to shimmy the loop of the lead higher before you adjusted yourself. His ass was warm, muscle, though extremely firm, withheld by a fair layer of fat. Overall, soft. The heat of your hand obviously welcomed by Papa as he moved to try and press back to it. You moved your cock to sit in the crook between him, teasing at his entrance. Your free hand found his opposing hip. You rocked him against you, the vibration now not only reaching you, but him as well. 

“Highness, please” he murmured.

The only response he got was a firm slap on the ass. He continued to rock at the pace you set. Your hand left his hip, moving to guide the tip of your cock, lining it up. You kept him rocking, pressure serving to insert you just enough that on the opposing rock you would exit again. Each move built the tension. 

Finally, you moved forward, cock filling him in what felt like a moment. His head tilted back, mouth agape. It was half of his own volition, half due to the way you pulled the lead taught. He whined as you angled yourself, knowing exactly where his sweet spot was. The vibrations brought you closer to an edge. Papa was much, much, closer to his. You decided to push a bit harder, jouncing him against you, cock filling him, each stroke pressing harder, harder, driving him right to the edge until he couldn’t hold on. 

He couldn’t hold on to anything except the trunk. Papa tightened and arched as he came, shooting across his belly, making a mess of the carpet bellow. It was shocking how little fucking he actually needed. You took a moment to process what had just happened, stopped dead in your tracks, the only movement was the vibration between your legs and the quaking of the man in front of you. 

Once he stopped and his breath slowed, you withdrew. You got to your feet, and you walked around to the trunk again. 

“Highness…” he stammered. “Highness…I didn’t…. I….” you shushed him, he fell silent. You sat on the edge on the trunk.

You removed his cuffs first, then his blindfold. His face was of pure shock, you held yours firm. He rolled his shoulders and moved to stand up. 

“Did I tell you to stand up?” you asked, tone steady but annoyed. 

Papa met your eyes with a look of confusion. 

“Eyes down piggy.” You instructed. His eyes fell quickly, realization that you weren’t done yet washing over him. “You’ve made an awful mess, now it’s time to clean up.”

Papa moved closer to you.

“Hands and knees dumb ass.” You spoke, Papa again confused but obedient. “You’re a little humiliation slut, so as a reward for your, enthusiasm,” you paused, giving the pope a chance to look down on himself, “you get to clean it.” 

Papa looked around a moment, searching for anything that could be considered viable as a cleaning product. He found nothing. Your foot found the back of his head, guiding it to hover above the pre-mature climax that lay on the floor. Papa tried to tilt his head to look at you, you just guided him further down. He understood. His tongue slid from his lips as he took the first cautious lap. 

Your hand fell to your own lap, moving to turn the toy up a setting before working yourself. The climax you had been building approached faster and faster, you adjusted your legs, ensuring one stayed to guide the pope, to get a better angle for yourself. 

Papa stopped his cleaning. “Please,” he begged “I know I’ve disappointed you, but please, let me see you cum.”

“Back to work,” you managed through moans, hand moving faster.

“But, Highness I-” 

“Did I fucking stutter?” you snapped at him.

His head dropped back as he continued to work, the salty taste of himself greeting his tongue. The pit in your gut set itself deeper and deeper as you rocked your hips, moaning, the spring that had coiled so tightly inside you sneaking closer to it’s breaking point. 

“Papa,” you murmured, the Pope greeted by the sole of your shoe pressing him down further when he tried to respond. With each call of his name, you drew closer, closer, rocking harder, moving faster, before not just meeting the edge but flinging yourself from the cliff, head spinning, eyes fluttering, weightless. 

You came to a halt as you fell off the edge of the trunk, ass meeting the carpeted ground. You couldn’t help but laugh. Papa’s face was within an inch of yours in a moment. 

“Are you alright?” he said, hand finding the side of your face. You leaned forward, kissing him softly, lips greeting his like they had a thousand times before, tasting him a moment before pulling back.

“I’m wonderful sweetheart,” your hand moved between your legs to turn off the vibrations, now much too strong. 

“Look, I’m sorry about, I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed, eyes leaving yours. 

“It happens.” You reassured before placing a kiss on his forehead. “It’s alright, I love you, let’s get you cleaned up.”

**Author's Note:**

> You may say, Dude, why would you write something like this? To that I say, yeah.


End file.
